


Showers and Plums

by Scotty1609



Series: Protocol Isty Bitsy [2]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Awesome Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky Barnes is a good Dad, Bucky Barnes-centric, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Peter Parker, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Past Brainwashing, Past Child Abuse, Past Torture, Past Violence, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, The Avengers Are Good Bros, i'm gonna make that an official tag one day i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 18:19:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14266860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scotty1609/pseuds/Scotty1609
Summary: On the run from Hydra, the last thing Bucky expects is to feel... safe.Or else, Clint is prepared for Child Wrangling(tm), Steve reads, Natasha... bakes?, and Bucky FINALLY gets to take a shower.





	Showers and Plums

**Author's Note:**

> (alt title: Sucky Title Is Suck)  
> Not Beta'd, and I'm not looking for a Beta right now. I was just impatient about posting because I was excited to share.
> 
> Anyways! Please lemme know if you wanna see any specific ships in this! I kinda maybe allude to the implications of a maybe pre-War Steve/Bucky, but it's only in like one sentence so yea... I've never written any ships besides Steve/Tony, so if you guys wanna see that, lemme know, or maybe Tony/Bucky or Bucky/Clint (something I had no idea I was into until I read fics of it) or any of the other plethora of Avengers ships there are...
> 
> Also! Lemme know what ideas you guys have for chapters and I'll credit you for it! I love writing prompts (though I can't promise I'll write them perfectly or at all), and inspiration is always welcomed.

  


Blinking awake was hard. His eyelids were heavy, his head throbbing, and his stomach was doing flips within his torso. The bright lights of the room he was in were blinding, the white walls sterile and uninviting. When he saw he was tied down to a medical cot with a set of handcuffs, Bucky scoffed and went to break the chain.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you.”

Bucky's head snapped up. He must still be weak from whatever drugs they gave him if he hadn't realized someone else was in the room. His eyes met that of a red haired woman's. Her head was tilted to the side, arms crossed casually as she leaned back against a cabinet. She wore a black suit of under armor and was nonchalantly flipping a butterfly knife open and closed as she watched him.

“Not if you wanna see the kid, that is,” the woman continued on.

Bucky's blood ran cold.

“What did you do to him?” Talking was hard, and his attempted snarl came out as more of a crackling gasp.

“He's safe,” his captor spoke. Bucky snorted in disbelief, and the woman cocked an eyebrow. “You really think we'd hurt a kid?”

“You have before.”

The woman waltzed over to the side of the bed, reaching for a glass of water that was just out of Bucky's reach. Slowly, she took a sip, then handed the glass over. Bucky fought the urge to knock it out of her hands and instead took a gulp of his own.

“I don't think you know who we are,” the woman said aloud, more to herself than Bucky. “We aren't Hydra.”

The word struck a chord in Bucky's chest, making his nerves and temperature rise. “Where is the boy?” he snarled out, the water helping him to speak more clearly.

“We're SHIELD,” the woman replied, ignoring Bucky's question. “My name is Natasha.”

“ _Where is he_?”

“He's _safe_ ,” Natasha spoke emphatically. “I promise.”

“Your promises mean nothing to me,” he snarled.

Natasha paused, deep in thought, and then looked up towards a corner of the room. Bucky didn't see any clear security camera, but he knew something was up. “Bring him in.”

Almost immediately, the doors behind her slid open and in walked a blonde haired man with the lightest blue eyes Bucky had ever seen. The man's muscular form and navy blue suit were intimidating, but his expression was filled with a whirl of emotions: fear, excitement, hope, but most obviously and confusingly _relief_.

“Buck,” the man rushed out in a huff of air.

  


“ _Buck!”_

_Bucky turned and saw a scrawny figure rushing up behind him, dressed in trousers and a dress shirt. The smaller man grinned from ear to ear when he came to stop in front of Bucky, one hand holding his too-big belt up so it wouldn't slip as he ran. “I got an extra dollar from Mrs. Hemmings at work today,” he gasped for air from running, “so I'd figure'd we could go see that new picture playing at the cinema!... Buck?”_

_Buck flushed as the blonde man's hand rested on his arm. “I've got work, Stevie.”_

“ _Oh, come on,” the other man- Stevie- grinned mischievously. “You've played hookie before, back when we were in school. S'nothin' wrong with playing a little hookie from the factory, right?”_

“ _Mrs. Hemmings is a bad influence on you, Stevie.”_

  


“...Stevie?” Bucky's voice was quiet as the blonde man came to crouch in front of his hospital bed.

“Buck-” Stevie- _Steve_ , Bucky's brain supplied- choked out. Tears were welling in Steve's eyes as he nodded frantically. “Yea, Buck, yea. It's me.”

Like a balloon popping, Bucky deflated. Steve was here. He wasn't quite sure who Steve was to him, but he felt he could... _trust_ him. For the first time in decades, Bucky felt the warm and secure sensation of _trust_ blooming in his chest as he looked at the other man. Steve looked ready to burst into tears and was hovering his hands over Bucky's locked wrist. He looked over his shoulder to Natasha, who murmured something into her watch- which reminded Bucky of Suit-man and-

“Peter.”

Steve turned back to Bucky, frowning. “Who's Peter?”

“The kid. Steve, we can't let Them get him. We can't let Them hurt him-”

“They won't,” Natasha was the one to interrupt Bucky's panicking. “Trust me. This whole building was designed like a fortress. Nobody is getting in or out without our say.”

“Who is 'our'?” Bucky inquired grimly, not liking where this was going.

“Like I said, we're SHIELD,” Natasha supplied. “Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement-”

“I don't give a shit. Where's Peter?”

Natasha sighed heavily. “Fury doesn't want you seeing Peter until he talks to you about-”

“Where. Is. _Peter_?” The metal restraints were easily snapped from his wrist as Bucky swung his legs off the bed and stood. He made to stalk over to Natasha, but Steve's arm held him back.

“Bucky, this isn't helping your cause,” Steve said calmly. “Please, all we want is to make sure you- and this Peter kid- are okay and safe, alright? So just go along with-”

“I'll _go along with it_ when I find out Peter is safe!”

Bucky's shout took the other two by surprise. Natasha and Steve exchanged glances in a silent conversation for several moments. Finally, Natasha sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine. Get him dressed. We'll take him to Peter.”

  


…

  


The kid hadn't stopped screaming since he woke up, and it was starting to drive Coulson insane. Sure, he liked kids well enough, but _this_ one seemed to have endless amounts of energy and hot air. It had been only a few hours since they brought in the two targets, about thirty minutes since Peter had woken up, and Coulson was at the end of his rope.

Fury had put Coulson and two other agents in charge of watching Peter while he dealt with the Higher Ups who were upset about the sudden appearance of the Winter Soldier. They wanted Barnes dead, and Fury wanted Barnes for the Avengers, so the two parties found themselves at an impasse. One thing that struck Coulson as peculiar was that Fury hadn't told the Higher Ups about Peter, or 'Spider-Kid' as the other agents had taken to calling him. This was due to the fact that, immediately upon waking, Peter had leaped from Coulson's arms and attached himself to the ceiling where he now sat criss-cross. The poor kid's face was bright red from the blood rushing to it and wailing his little lungs out for “Buck, Buck, Buck!” Coulson hadn't taken the Winter Soldier for the fatherly type from reading his files, but Peter sure seemed to think Barnes was his guardian.

“BUCK! BUCK! BUCK!” Peter's screeches seemed to have no end.

The doors behind Coulson opened, and the child grew quiet for a minute as he fought to see who was entering the room through his tears. Upon realizing it wasn't his guardian, Peter began sobbing and screaming again.

“Yeouch!” Clint exclaimed upon entering the room and dismissing the two other agents (who fled all too eagerly, in Coulson's opinion). The archer reached up to adjust his hearing aid as he peered up at the boy sitting on the ceiling. “What'd you do to the poor kid?”

“Nothing.”

“Pft. Obviously.” Clint dropped a bag Coulson hadn't realized he'd been carrying and began rummaging through it. “I brought some of Cooper's old stuff and some snacks from home when I heard about a little tyke who could run around on walls,” Clint spoke as he searched the bag. “Ah-ha! Here.” He pulled out a juice pouch and a Tupperware container of fruit.

“Good luck with that,” Coulson countered. “He won't come down for anything short of Barnes showing up.”

“We'll see about that.”

Clint walked to the center of the holding cell where the screeching was loudest, wincing at the feedback his hearing aids gave. Poor kid would probably scream his lungs out before he got to see his mentor again. “Hey, kid!” Clint tried to call out softly. When it became apparent that Peter wasn't going to respond, Clint tried a different method. “Buck!”

Peter went silent, looking around frantically for said man. “B-Buck?” he whimpered, voice crackling from use. “Buck?” He looked down at Clint.

“You wanna see Buck?”

Peter sobbed and nodded frantically, to which Clint reached out for the child. “C'mere, then. Let's get some food and water into you and then we'll go see Buck, okay?”

Coulson watched with disbelief as Peter crawled down the wall and tiredly stumbled over to Clint. “There, there, big guy,” Clint murmured as he sat down on the floor. Peter plopped down next to him. “Have a snack and then we'll go find this Buck guy, okay?”

Peter looked like he wanted to object, but his tiny tummy rumbled loudly throughout the room- Clint side-eyed Coulson at that- and then he reached for the Tupperware.

“We hadn't thought about feeding him,” Coulson admitted sheepishly.

“Yea, well,” Clint said as he handed Peter the juice box, “that's why you need awesome dads like Hawkeye around, don't'cha?”

Peter slurped at the apple juice until it was gone, then made grabby hands for another.

“What do we say?” Clint asked him as he looked for another box.

“More.”

“Pft. What is Barnes teaching you?” Despite this, Clint still gave Peter the second juice box as he opened the Tupperware in his lap. “I've got strawberries, blueberries, and plums-”

“Plum!” the child shouted happily. “Plum, plum, plum, plum-”

“Okay, okay,” Clint chuckled and relinquished said fruit. “So Peter likes plums, huh?”

It took a few minutes for Peter to eat the plum, but it was long enough of a distraction for Clint and Coulson to argue in hushed tones about whether or not they were going to take Peter to see Barnes-

(“Fury said to keep them apart!”

“I don't care! Barnes is obviously as close to a parent as this kid has, we can't keep them separate like this-”

“But Fury said-”

“I recognize that Fury has made a decision, but given that it's a stupid-ass decision, I have elected to ignore it!”

“Brat.”)

-and by the time Peter had finished his plum, Clint still hadn't been able to convince Coulson to let Peter loose.

“Buck now?” Peter asked innocently as he looked up at Clint. Clint grinned.

“Actually, Peter, Buck's gonna meet us here.”

On cue, the doors slid open and Natasha popped her head in. When Coulson saw her, he glared at Clint. “You two had this planned.”

“You wound me for suspecting anything else, Phil.”

“BUCK!”

Steve had to jump out of Bucky's way as the other super-soldier charged into the room, scooping Peter up into his arms and cradling him to his chest. Coulson hadn't expected to see such... _gentleness_ from the Winter Soldier. Bucky was holding Peter with tenderness as the child cried in relief, allowing the tears and snot to soak through his t-shirt. One metal hand raised to caress the little boy's shaggy brown hair, the other supporting him on Bucky's waist. “I'm here, Pete,” Bucky whispered to the child, eyes closed in relief. “You're safe. We're safe...”

Watching the two, Coulson really couldn't bring himself to mind the disobeying of orders.

  


...

  


It took mere moments for Peter to calm down once he and Bucky were reunited. Even so, the child was terribly exhausted from his screaming fit. He leaned up against Bucky's chest, head on the man's shoulder, and sucked on his thumb to comfort himself. Other than the tear tracks on his face, Peter was completely relaxed. That in of itself had to be a sign to Bucky that these SHIELD characters weren't going to hurt them. Steve was here, too, and he _knew_ he could trust Steve. It was weird... There were many things Bucky didn't know about this new and terrifying life of his: he didn't know when his next meal was going to be, when he was going to finally get a good night's sleep, how he was going to go about getting Peter new socks (Peter's had holes in the pinkie toe area and it drove the poor child's sensitive skin nuts). Hell, he didn't even know his real name! But Steve... trusting Steve was as easy as breathing in a fresh of clear air.

Bucky finally allowed himself to relax when Peter's breathing evened out, signaling the child had fallen asleep. He looked over to Natasha and Steve and the two agents standing in the room, the latter of which was shoving empty juice boxes into a duffle bag. Bucky opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, unsure of what exactly to say.

As it turned out, he didn't have to say anything, because duffle-bag guy piped up, “Poor kid could use a nice warm bath and a change of clothes.” The man's eyes latched onto Bucky's. “You look like you'd enjoy a hot shower, too.”

Bucky's grip on Peter tightened at the thought of being separated from the boy again. The others noticed this immediately, and Steve piped up, “What Clint means is that we should get you two settled in our guest quarters.”

The man- Clint- shrugged. “Yea, sure. That's what I meant.”

“Fury isn't going to be happy about this,” Suit-man grumbled, and Natasha rolled her eyes.

“When is he ever?”

Suit-man mumbled something about staving off the oncoming fight and slipped out of the room, addressing Clint, “The kid is your problem now, Barton, watch him close,” with finality before disappearing.

After a beat of silence, Clint cleared his throat and clapped his hands. It truly said something to how tired Peter was that the boy didn't even flinch. “Whelp, let's get you boys showered and squeaky-clean!”

  


…

  


Bucky had figured out early on that the easiest, fastest, and safest way for he and Peter to get clean was to take a bath together. It limited the time frame that the two were indisposed and unguarded by half while also providing Bucky an easier access to checking Peter for injuries. He managed to bathe himself while Peter was distracted by the bubbles- because god forbid they had a bath without bubbles- and then dried them both off within five or ten minutes.

Bucky couldn't remember the last time he'd had a hot shower.

Walking into the massive bathroom attached to Clint's quarters on the Helicarrier (Bucky was slightly concerned as to what a _Helicarrier_ was), the first thing that drew Bucky's attention was the shower head. It had five different settings, Clint had informed him with a glint in his eye. There was also a fresh razor, bar of soap, and little sample of aftershave left out for Bucky to use.

But Peter was first. Mission: Protect. Peter was _always_ first.

Said child, from his position still asleep on Bucky's chest, gave a tiny noise of protest when Bucky began undressing the child. Any bruises the SHIELD agents could have given him had already faded- to the luck of the agents, because lord knows Bucky would rain hell on anyone who hurt his charge- and the kid's skin was a soft plane of peach.

Peter yawned heavily, smacking his lips and blinking awake. “Buck?” he asked quietly, peering around the bathroom. When he saw the tub, he cheered and clapped his hands together. “Bath! Buck n' Peter bath!”

“Just Peter this time,” Bucky informed the child as he ran some water, checking the temperature with his flesh hand. “Bucky's gonna take a shower.”

After all, Peter was safe here with Steve. Bucky would only take a few minutes- five tops. And Clint had already shown Bucky how to use the shower head, and Bucky didn't want to let that training go to waste... The entire time he bathed Peter, Bucky was fighting himself on whether or not to take a shower, whether or not to leave Peter with these _strangers_ so Bucky could give in to a whim.

He hadn't taken a nice, hot shower by himself in...

Well, he couldn't quite remember. The showers that They- that Hydra- had forced him into were always a degree away from freezing. And then he had always had lukewarm baths with Peter to make sure the child's sensitive skin wasn't burned. But now...

“Buck too?”

Bucky looked down at Peter curiously. The child was playing with a rubber ducky that Clint had procured from his duffle of infinite toys. It was bright pink and Peter had squealed upon hearing its squeak. “Buck bath too?”

“Bucky's gonna take a shower,” Bucky said again, more firmly this time (although the bravado behind the statement was for himself more than Peter).

Once Peter was dried and wrapped up in the fluffiest towel Bucky could find, holding Pinkie (the duck) to his chest with sticky little hands, Bucky felt his heart drop into his stomach.

It was time to shower.

“Barnes- er, Bucky?”

Bucky's head snapped around, his hands tightening around Peter, as Clint appeared in the doorway. “Natasha's making cookies. Does Peter have any allergies?”

 _Did_ Peter have any allergies? Bucky hadn't managed to grab the kid's files when they were fleeing the compound. Hell, Peter had been an afterthought in of himself, so why would Bucky have bothered to grab the files? But Peter had a healing complex that was faster than Bucky's and could climb sheer walls with his fingertips, so Bucky didn't really think peanuts or soy were the worst of their worries. Bucky shook his head.

“Alright... Want me to send in Cap?”

_Cap?_

“Er- I mean Steve.”

Clint must have seen Bucky's body language relax upon hearing the other man's name, because he smirked and left the room without another word. Moments later, Steve appeared. He had changed from his uniform into jeans and a tee-shirt that said _Led Zepplin_ or something or other. His blue eyes shined as he entered the bathroom, crouching down to Peter's and Bucky's current height. “Is it my turn to babysit?” he teased, to which Bucky tensed. “Hey, Buck, it's okay. I won't hurt him.”

“I know,” Bucky snapped, coming to cradle Peter's head against his chest protectively. Then, slower, he said, “I know...”

“Besides,” Steve grinned, “from what Coulson says, kid here is pretty kick-butt himself, aren't you, Peter?”

“Kick-butt!” Peter chirped, nodding his head. “Kick-butt!”

Bucky deadpanned at Steve, who chuckled sheepishly.

“Five minutes,” Bucky said aloud, more to himself than Peter and Steve. “Five minutes.”

“Take however long you want,” Steve told him. Peter was easily transferred over to the blonde, who hefted the child up like he was lighter than a paperweight (which he probably was, giving his and Bucky's eating habits). When Bucky still seemed hesitant, Steve offered, “I'll stay with him in Clint's room, right over here, and we'll leave the door cracked open for you. How's that sound?”

With the shower head screaming at him from the corner, it didn't take much more convincing for Bucky to agree.

As soon as he got under the stream of hot water, all semblance of time left Bucky's mind. He showered the grease and dirt out of his hair, taking time to unknot each of the long, dark locks. He scrubbed at his skin until it was a glistening pink, the hot water washing away his weariness and relaxing his taut muscles. Bucky closed his eyes under the spray, feeling the warmth of _relief_ spreading over his body and warming him down to his toes.

He got out of the shower and decided to shave. It had been a long few weeks since he'd last shaved, and he had a good little beard starting up. The aftershave Clint left for him smelled of sandalwood and eucalyptus, something Bucky wouldn't traditionally see himself enjoying but still found himself using. A larger razor, an electric one, had been set to the side and plugged in for Bucky's use, but after working so hard to get all of the knots out of his hair, he felt it would be a waste to shave it all off.

It didn't occur to Bucky that he hadn't heard Peter shouting or crying until he was exiting the bathroom with a towel tied around his waist.

Instead, Peter was sitting in Steve's lap on the bed as Steve read to him a picture book (yet again from Clint's Magic Duffle) called _Commotion In the Ocean_. It had brightly colored fish and glittery seashells plastered over the cover, and from what Bucky could hear and see, Peter was entranced by the book. Steve paused in his reading when Bucky came out of the bathroom, looking up at the other man. His eyes caught on Bucky's metal arm for a fraction of a second, flicking over to the numerous scars that littered the man's chest for a moment longer, before looking up to meet Bucky's eyes.

“I think you're about my size. There's a change of clothes for you right there,” Steve nodded to the end of the bed where jeans and a long-sleeved tee-shirt lay. “Peter picked out the shirt, didn't you, Peter?”

“Mm-hmm,” the boy nodded. He pointed at said shirt and exclaimed, “Blue!”

“We were talking about colors,” Steve explained, “and I think Peter's favorite is blue. Right, Peter?”

“Blue! Buck blue!”

Bucky smirked as the two went back to their reading, Steve respectfully diverting his eyes as Bucky pulled on the laid-out clothes. When he had finished changing, Bucky looked up to see that Steve and Peter were done with their book. “Natasha just said the cookies are done,” Steve spoke up, tilting his head to the side to hear the woman from the other room. “Oatmeal chocolate chip.” His face lit up a bit. “My favorite. Ready to go?” Steve looked down at Peter.

The child nodded frantically. Any excuse to eat was a good excuse for Peter, another part of Bucky's training. He never knew when he'd be able to offer Peter food next- he tried for at _least_ twice a day, but sometimes that didn't happen- so Bucky taught Peter to never turn down food. That being said, he'd also taught the kid how to detect certain poisons (hopefully the kid's metabolism would take care of those that couldn't be detected), but Peter had quickly learned not to look a gift-horse in the mouth when the horse was offering oats.

Bucky noted that Peter was wearing a tee-shirt with several people on it, a large 'A' with an arrow pointing towards the child's chest. He cocked an eyebrow and Steve noticed. “Oh, yea,” Steve spoke, “that's the Avengers.”

“ _Sergeant Barnes, welcome to the Avengers' Initiative.”_

“What's the Avengers?” Bucky asked as the trio entered the kitchen.

“Oh, buddy,” Clint grinned from his perch atop a counter, munching on a cookie, “are you two in for a surprise.”

  


  


   


**Author's Note:**

> Natasha's cookies are only rivaled by Sam's. Fight me.
> 
> Anyways, idk when I'll update this series next. It'll probably be a while though because I'm in college and working, but I'm always eager to hear from you guys! Like I said, send in some prompts and I'll try to write some more chapters!


End file.
